


Beware the Wandering Wilas

by ohgosh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Attracts Supernatural Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgosh/pseuds/ohgosh
Summary: There's a creature eating people (again).After a run in, it begins stalking Stiles, determined to finish its meal.The pack works to keep Stiles safe, but the key to getting rid of the creature has fatal consequences.





	Beware the Wandering Wilas

CHAPTER 1: 

They knew something was taking men by the lake. 

At first, they thought it was a siren or a kelpie. The pack took turns waiting around the lake every night for a month, anticipating its next attack. 

This particular night was cool and dark. Stiles was playing it safe; sticking to the shore, pants rolled up, shoes in hand. Trailing Scott and Isaac, as they kicked around in the shallow water. After so many nights, they weren’t above pestering the creature into appearing. It was unusually quiet. The new moon turning the water liquorice black. As still as glass, save the wolves playing.

A wind picked up but didn’t touch the water, instead, dancing along the bank, pulling amber leaves along the dirt. A shiver ran up Stiles’ spine as it passed him. 

So far, five men gone. All so far were between 25 and 40 years old. All went jogging on trails nearby. Clothes, bags, even bikes were left by the bank on each account. Stiles guessed a Siren probably would have tried serenading them by now, and a Kelpie could disguise itself or trick them. But neither creature had made their presence known aside from the missing persons. The pack had discussed creatures with similar M.O.’s, tried to coax it out, hiding, following humans on their jogs. Even going on jogs alone (but not actually alone – the wolves hid along the trails and close enough for a howl to summon them in seconds).

The idea of diving into the lake itself was completely off-limits. The creature was obvious aquatic by nature and would have the upper hand. The wolves would be sitting ducks for it.

At this point, Stiles thought perhaps the lake was haunted. Or maybe there was some magical portal? He was stumped.

They’d dealt with a Kelpie before, and it’d made its debut pretty early own in their nightly campouts. Confident in its ability to enchant them, not expecting their traps.

Whatever it is, it was either smarter, more stubborn or very, very different to anything they’d encountered before.

Stiles, for the hundredth night, sat at the base of a tree a couple of meters from the water, grabbed a stick and started tracing theories into the dirt. Missing men. Early morning/late night runs. They’d gone willingly. How long could this creature last without food? Could it get its food another way? This lake didn’t connect to anything in beacon hills, just a river into the mountains. Which didn’t connect to any other town city or residential area. Perhaps it just fed on fish or other woodland creatures, and just made its way here?

The sound of the water breaking nearby let Stiles know Scott and Isaac were probably getting carried away in a game. He looked up to check they hadn’t gotten too far away when his stomach dropped.

The woman, looking more like a ghostly swamp witch, with long black hair, and scaly pale green skin had exploded out of the water directly at Stiles, and was crawling on all fours rapidly up the bank.

Stiles screamed bloody murder, as he kicked to scramble away, hitting the tree behind him, and the creature took it chance to take a chunk out of his leg with a bite.

The wolves were already slashing their way over wolfed out and growling.

The witch crawled up stiles body, bloody and grinning. Her warm fish breath made him gag. Her fish-white eyes smiled at Stiles. 

“Mine, now.”

And with a delighted hiss, began dragging him into the lake. Stile hands gripping nothing as he caught a mouth full of water.

Scott and Isaac were on their tail, slashing, and biting at the creature. Screeching, the creature pulls stiles behind her, struggling, coughing and sputtering, face half underwater as the creature man callously manhandles him. 

But as she hisses and slashes back at the werewolves, she’s changing. Skin slimier, sharp nails becoming talons, hundreds of long yellow pin-like fangs keep her from closing grinning lips. Her limbs grow longer, what looks like fat worms under her skin move – bloating odd places and thinning others, the sight makes Stile vomit. 

Her fingers find the flesh of his waist, hooking into him. Stiles vision swims as he realises her nails aren't just sharp – watching as she lashes out at his friends – they’re shaped like fishhooks at the end.

She’s backing into the water, and Scott’s taken to continuous howling while he scratches at the monster. Isaac still goes in for attacks, but he becomes slower and slower. The creature is clever enough to target weakness in Isaac’s offence and has flayed one of his arms to the bone, and keen to have the other match.

Stiles watches them helplessly. The creature is trying to submerge him, the water up to their waists and rising as the monster backs toward the depth. Stiles can’t find good footing and can’t unhook himself from the creature without her tearing into his stomach.

The rest of the pack isn’t far - howling heard in the distance lets Scott take a more aggressive barrage, and Isaac hangs back, barely standing from blood loss.

The creature begins taking longer and longer strides back and cackles at Scott as she takes one of Stile’s arms and bites into it.

Stiles screams, loud, but he barely hears it as he watches the pins sink into his own flesh.

Derek, closely followed by the rest of the pack breaks through the tree line and launches into the water, but the creature grins with an impossibly large mouth - she could rip Stiles whole face off in a bite if she wanted to - and begins slowly tearing at the flesh of his arm.

Suddenly Stiles can’t stop the noises from his throat, he’s manic with fear and pain and he’s going to faint, and then the creature – he can only see her now, he doesn’t know where everyone is, only her – rips her hand from his side, hook nails tearing the skin, and wrap them around Stiles' throat, submerging him, drowning him. He’s already dizzy from agony, and the dark night of the new moon turns has him blind in the water. It’s like floating in freezing tar, everything was slow. Stiles knows this isn’t good. He tries to listen for the wolves - where are they? But all he knows is the horrific face of the monster woman.

She’s dragging him further back into the lake, he can’t find the bottom, but the creature swims smoothly – or at least in what's left of his foggy consciousness, it's smooth.

Stiles feels her dive, and he knows the wolves can’t follow. This is her domain, and they don’t stand a chance.

Stiles hears roaring in the water. The sound is distant as his consciousness slips. 

Stiles feels his breath bubble out of him. Feel his body jerk in futile resistance, all he can think about is air, fish women and wolves.

The hand releases him.

He doesn’t know if it’s so dark he can’t see, or if he’s closed his eyes.

It’s cold.

The water is shifting. 

xxx

Stiles blacks out because the next thing he feels is compressions on his chest and he’s coughing water into dirt.

Dirt.

His moans as he sinks his fingers into the earth.

There’s a constant ringing in his ears, but his hearing returns as he’s made aware of the wolves’ fussing over him.

Erica grabs his cheeks and turns his face to look at her, hovering above him. “Oh my god, Stiles, don’t you ever do that again!”

“I told you to give him room,” Derek growls and shoves the girl away.

“Stiles, Stiles, buddy, you ok?” Scott replaces Erica in Stiles’ line of sight, ignoring the Alpha.

Stiles tries to get up and with a _holy fucking shit that hurts_ very nearly throws up on himself and rests back. “Nope. No, I’m not ok.” His voice is raw, and his throat feels like he’d metal shavings.

“Stay calm, Stiles.” Derek is doing that pain-seeping thing Stiles _loves._ “We need to get you to the hospital.”

Stiles stares at him and hopes Derek’s understands the ‘no shit’ expression.

“We have a make-shift stretcher-thing?” Scott provides. Stiles knows this is them giving him a heads up that some major pain is coming his way, so he nods, minutely. And the pack grabs the better parts of his arms and shoulders and lifts-drags him onto some long wooden board.

Boyd in front and Derek at back, they get right to lifting it once they're sure he won’t slide right off. 

It’s then Stiles is realising he’s pretty far into the woods, and very, very well away from the lake. He’s soaked to the bones, shivering, and while his whole-body throbs – his lungs protesting to everything – he can feel stabbing pain in his left side.

As the pack starts moving, Erica informs him, “That thing was fucked. We like, dive-bombed the water–” Stiles can tell she’s using her hands by the sounds of her wet leather jacket moving. “– and Derek basically went rabid on the thing –” Derek huffs. “– and I was like, kicking it, and Scott started – what were you doing? Trying to rip its ears off with your bare hands?” 

“I was trying to keep it from biting me!”

“Right, ok. So, Scott was doing... That? And Boyd sucker punched it in the jaw – hey d’ya know you’ve got, like, three of its teeth in your arm?” and Stiles can see them, really damn far into his arm, and is actually going to throw up.

He’s not sure if it’s his sicked face or if one of the pack does something because Erica quietens down.

It’s silent as they trod through the forest. Stiles passes in and out of consciousness. He’s aware he’s in a car at one point. He watches as darkness is broken by the steady stream of streetlamps before he unceremoniously jostled awake – brought out into the glaring light of the Emergency room of the Beacon Hills hospital.

Scott’s mum is there somewhere, yelling and professional but Stiles gets a flash of her face and he knows she’s scared for him. The pack clings at every chance they get, touching him, holding him up. Stiles swears they’re nearly petting him at one point, and it must be the relief of making it to the hospital that has them touching him so much.

Things get fuzzy again from there – faces, familiar, and not, pass into his vision, always talking urgently. He’s usually moving. 

Then he’s in a deep slumber. 

The pain ebbs away.

xxx

When Stiles comes to for the umpteenth millionth time he’s in a white hospital bed, and the pack is in various places, passed out on anything remotely comfortable in the room They definitely stole chairs from somewhere else in the hospital. His father is snoring loudly by his right side, Scott at his left, with Derek by his feet.

He takes a moment to slowly and silently take in the damage.

His left leg, arm and side are all heavily bandaged (definitely has stitches), and he has a drip. There are various nicks and bruises over every part of him. He can’t be sure when or how he got each one but he knows he’s not surprised. He’s also on some pretty heavy painkillers.

Signing heavily, Stiles lays his head back onto the pillow. The movement wakes Scott, which by some werewolf proxy, wakes everyone else in the room.

Most of the pack start for the bed but Derek raises a hand and the lot of them pause. Scott’s stroking Stiles relatively ok shoulder, smiling and gushing about how happy he is Stiles is awake. While his father grouses about how dangerous Stile’s actions are (which he really needs to know what story the pack fed him before he gets himself in more trouble), making him promise not to do it again while holding back tears.

The pack filter out to give stiles and his father time alone. Stiles Dad really does cry, then. There’s a lot of “What were you thinking?” and “What if they hadn’t been there?” and Stiles is way too loopy on drugs to puzzle together what story the pack gave him.

Eventually after a lot of tears (Stiles begins crying, too, he’s a man, damn it, he can admit it.) Stiles’ convinces his Dad to go home to eat and rest properly (“No junk food!”). Which he only does once Stiles asks him to return with pyjama’s and Stiles’ Nintendo when he visits him later.

It’s been an hour since the pack left, but the moment the Sheriff exits the room, they all file back in and collect around the bed. 

Erica has Stiles’ good hand in between hers, and Scott’s by his shoulder again. Derek’s by Erica’s side, at Stiles' head, and Boyd and Isaac lean over Stiles' legs to look at him.

“How are you?” Scott begins. “Mum said you were lucky to be alive. Said she’d never seen someone take in so much water and still be conscious.” Scott’s cautious smile tells Stiles he’s just as proud of Stiles as he is worried.

“It’s going to take more than a crazy fish-lady to take me down, Scotty-boy.” He rasps back.

“That ‘crazy fish-lady’ is still out there.” Derek’s voice is low and he’s looking at his hands resting on the foot of the bed. “You shouldn’t –”

“It hadn’t done anything for weeks!” Isaac protests. Derek glances at him, and the Beta seems to deflate. “We shouldn’t have let our guard down. We know.”

Derek seems placated. Nodding and breathing out through his nose as he looks back at Stiles. 

“I wasn’t even in the water,” Stiles rasps. “Fucker knew what it was doing. Waited us out.” The pack nodded. 

Erica cleared her throat, swallows. “What now?”

Everyone looks to Derek. Shoulders taught. “We’ll discuss this later.”

“But with Stiles –” Scott starts.

“Later.” The alpha squares himself. As if calling his pack to attention, they all straighten. Derek nods at Stiles, holding eye contact for a moment, looks over his pack, and quietly leaves the room.

The Beta’s glance amongst themselves and begin to leave. Erica pets Stiles hands once more before she meets Boyd at the door.

Isaac offers a quiet “See you later,” and follows.

Stiles turns to Scott. “He’s going to do this without me, huh?”

Scott scoffs “Yep.”

“Keep me updated, yeah, pal? You know he’s all bite, no brains.”

“Duh.” And Scott was out in a few long strides, a wave and a not at all hidden sad-puppy look.

Sighing, Stiles takes to staring at the off-white ceiling and closes his eyes.

Stiles is going to figure this creature out.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love criticism, but I also haven't written fanfic since my long-ago weeaboo days. Be gentle with me!
> 
> I'm keen to get into writing, but I've got a feeling it's going be a long, bumpy ride.
> 
> :)


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